


Home to Lallybroch

by takemeawaytocamelot



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 17:54:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7855174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takemeawaytocamelot/pseuds/takemeawaytocamelot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This came from Tumblr, wanting Jamie’s take on Claire at the stones after the witch trial. He decided he wanted more than that, so I’m breaking this up into multiple parts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

She didn't know where they were or where they were going. He was counting on that. 

It made a strange sort of sense now, why she hadn't ever quite fit in. This wasn't her time, wasn't her place. He'd always known she was different. There weren't many women as sharp tongued as she, definitely not many that spoke their mind so bluntly. And, as often as that had irritated him, he'd grown to love it about her. 

He had to stop doing that. Thinking of all the little things he'd fallen in love with would only make this harder. It needed to be done. He couldn't force her to live in a time to which she so clearly did not belong. It wasn’t fair to her.

Watching her sleep by firelight was killing him. How many times has he dreamt of her swelling with child? Or enjoyed the shapes her mouth made when he took her? Or adored the way her breasts fit so perfectly in his hands. 

Would she keep his ring, he wondered. It caught red light from the fire, glinting with it. If she felt anything for him, she might. But he couldn’t dwell on that, or he wouldn’t be able to do what needed to be done in the morning. 

Just one last time. 

That was all he could allow himself to do. Just watch to her, to see her face contort as he pleasured her. It would likely be the last time he’d be with a woman. He had no desire to marry again, not after a woman like her. Even if he somehow found the stomach to wed again, he couldn’t ever love her. Not the way he loved Claire.

He traced the curves of her lips, then her cheek. She was so soft, so serene in this light. He was supposed to be keeping watch, but knowing this was the last night he’d ever have with her, he couldn’t take his mind from her. One final kiss. He could take nothing else from her.

Trailing one hand down the front of her body, he found his way under her skirts. He caressed the smooth skin of her thighs, the strength in them still astounding him. She would be an amazing mother some day. Just not with him.

Slippery as waterweed, he’d said once. She still was. And warm, too.

Unable to stop himself, he began to gently massage her while softly petting her hair. Those curls she often hated, the ones he smelled every morning.

Her mouth opened, only a little. She was still mostly asleep, but her body knew his intimately. Her legs opened wider and her hips churned slightly. Then her eyes opened, locking with his. With his continuous attentions further down, she was completely unable to speak. All he heard was her heavy breathing and the thudding of her heart. It made him smile. He would remember this for the rest of his life.

He leaned close, as if to kiss her but no, not yet. All he wanted was to breathe her air, to taste the pleasure on her lips, to steal the sounds of delight she blessed him with.

One of her beautiful hands clutched at him suddenly. She used it to pull herself up, her breathing ragged and hot against his cheek.  
 “I want you inside me,” she pleaded.

He wanted that too. Christ, his cock was hard as the rocks beneath them. But no. If he was to lose her forever, he couldn’t let himself feel that way again. The only way to let her go was to make her happy and sever the ties.

“No,” he said gently, pushing her back down with his free hand. “No, mo nighian donn. I want to watch you.”

Moving a little harder, he couldn’t help but smile. She was writhing against him now, pulling hard at his coat. That only drove his hand further in. Delightful as it was to watch her and hear her, he felt a part of himself dying. He wouldn’t ever hear this again, wouldn’t ever feel her body answer his. Never hear her beg for him to take her. This was it.

Still breathing her air, he felt her body shudder slightly in climax. She pulled him down for a sweet kiss. It was tender and warm, making him wish he was a selfish man.

He didn’t want to give her back, to watch her disappear. But he must. She didn’t belong here. She’d be safer in her own time. With… Frank.

“Jamie,” she whispered, beginning to reach for his kilt.

“No,” he said again. “Just sleep. We’ll be there in the morning.”


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Claire at the stones.

Life would never get easier after this, but if he was lucky maybe it wouldn’t always hurt so much.

She was washing her hands in the stream. God she was beautiful. It somehow seemed to grow every day, her beauty. Every morning he woke up beside her, he found some new facet that buried her deeper in his heart.

That was all over, now. Dwelling on it wouldn’t make it hurt less. One last moment of happiness, watching her without her knowing. Then he steeled himself. Best to get this done and over with so he could figure out how to live the rest of his life.

“So,” he said. When she turned and smiled at him, his heart clenched. “Sassanach. Are ye ready to go home?”  
More than likely, she didn’t catch the emphasis on ‘home’. She’d have no idea what he meant.

Then she stood, his kilt tied and buckled about her shoulders, and gave him a smile so sweet he thought he might be a selfish man after all.

“Yes,” she said, holding herself to her full height.

The whole ride from Cranesmiur, she’d been quiet and reserved. Much more so than he was accustomed to. She’d hardly smiled, only nodded and listened to him. It had been very respectful, her quietness. She let him talk about his home, Lallybroch, a place she’d probably never see. Not now, anyway.

As she began to climb up from the stream, he offered his hand. They’d had days while they rode, now they had moments. Only she didn’t know it yet. When she took his hand, it was cool and still damp. 

Just once more!

Christ, if he kept telling himself that, they’d be here for the next century. Still that wouldn’t be enough time.

Pulling her close to him, he kissed her. It was a farewell kiss, one he couldn’t let her return. She was still reaching for him when he ended it. If it had gone any further, he would have taken them away from this God-forsaken place and never looked back. But she’d had her choices taken away from her for far too long. He couldn’t be that selfish, even if he really wanted to be.

Turning his gaze from her perfect face, he stared at the crest of the hill.

“Take a look.”

She did, though she looked a trifle confused. Everything inside him was screaming at him to keep her there, not let her go near that place. But when she turned back to him, trusting and sweet, he smiled. She deserved to return to the place she belonged, to the man she loved.

Forcing the heartache and the longing down, he followed her. She was smiling, anticipating seeing his home. But she wouldn’t. Her walking slowed to a stop when she realized where they’d ridden to. What little color had been in her face drained suddenly away, making her even more pale.

“It’s what you wanted,” he said. “Aye? What you’ve… always wanted.”

She wasn’t speaking, just staring at the stone circle.

“To go home.”

He was staring at the stones too, but for a very different reason. She could see her home there, her lover, her life. All he saw was sinister circle that was about to steal his heart and soul away from him.

“Yes,” she said, though she didn’t sound sure of herself.

Turning back to her, he couldn’t let himself see his wife. Claire Beauchamp. That’s who she was to him now, all she could be to him. When he offered his hand this time, she didn’t notice. Her gaze was fixed on the stone, hopeful that her life was waiting on the other side.

Then she seemed to notice he’d offered his hand, and she took it. Her hands were like ice, feeling as if they were frozen solid as he helped her across the rough terrain.  
Was it wrong for him to wish that she stopped him from taking her to the stones? Probably. But he couldn’t be sorry he wished it.

They made it to the top of the hill, near the stones. Dropping her hand, he drew his sword, in case anyone was about. There had been a redcoat patrol here once, after all. 

“Is this yer place?” he asked, looking around.

“This is it,” she said, her voice trembling.

Studying each stone, he went for the one in the middle. It was exactly as she’d described. Big and eerie, standing in the center of the circle. He went to it and put his hand out.

“This the one?”

“Yes.”

Her voice was even quieter now. 

When he looked back at her, she seemed as though she was about to cry. He would cry too if he was this close to getting back to the place he belonged. To be safe, he walked around the big stone. Nothing happened.

“So. What did you do? Last time?”

Her head shook slowly and her voice seemed to go flat.

“I didn’t really do anything,” she said, moving toward the stone. “I heard this buzzing sound and I just…”

Her hands were outstretched, nearly to the stone. His strength and courage failed him. 

“…touched the stone,” she said, almost a murmur.

The thought of never seeing her again, never holding her, never hearing her speak his name… It was too much. He couldn’t. No, damn it, he could be selfish for just this once!  
Jumping quickly to her, he yanked her arms away from the stone and gathered to himself. 

“Claire,” he choked out.

One hand was clinging to the shoulder of his coat. Her eyes closed and she breathed what might have been a sigh of relief. Gently, he tucked her wild curls behind one ear and desperately fought his urge to kiss her again.

Her right hand was on his chest. He took it in his own, trying to catch his breath.  
“I’m sorry, lass.” Her head was leaning against his own. “I stopped ye. I shouldna have done so.”

He kissed her knuckles, pulling whatever strength was left back to him.

“Just… Wasna ready.”

Would he ever be ready to let her go? To send her to another man?

“I know,” she said, barely a whisper. 

They both fell silent. Why had he done that? He’d taken her choice again. She’d been moving back to her home and he’d torn her away from it. Damn his selfishness.

“Well there’s no use in waiting. I must part wi’ ye now.”

She was nearly in tears. No. This had to be done. She had to be safe, and that wouldn’t happen here in this time.

“That’s why we’re here,” he continued. “It’s your own time, on the other side of that stone. You’ve a home there. A place. The things you’re used to.” He paused, about to say the one thing he loathed above all else. “And Frank.”

“Frank,” she repeated.

She must cling to that, now. To Frank. But she was doubting, unsure of her choice. He had to push her, to make her go back even if it killed him. Which it likely would. 

Dropping his voice, he made it as hard and unwavering as he could.  
“There is nothing for you on this side,” he said gruffly. “Nothin’. Save violence and danger.” He shook her once, gently, and turned away before he lost his own nerve. “Now go.”

Then he turned abruptly to leave her. If he stayed any longer, he would beg her not to go. He would hold her back and tie her down, drag her off to Lallybroch and never let her return to this place. But he couldn’t do that to her. She deserved better.

Just before he went down the hill, he stopped and looked back at her.

“I’ll stay at the camp, till nightfall. To make sure that you’re safe.”

There was a hole in his chest, gaping and bleeding. He could feel it, though he saw no blood. The heart he’d once had was no longer his. It was hers. She would take it with her through the stones, whether she willed it or no.

“Goodbye, Sassanach.”

Gritting his teeth, he turned away from her for the last time.

“Jamie!”

Her voice was desperate, thick with emotion. But he couldn’t turn around or his resolve would vanish.

“Goodbye,” she breathed.

So she’d made her choice then. That was it. There was nothing left to do now but go down to the camp and make sure no one found her. 

Each step he took, he felt himself die a little more. Would he know when she’d gone through the stone? Would he feel her be suddenly gone from him, never to return? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the exact moment he’d be severed from his soul. Something told him he would know it anyway, whether he willed it or no.


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Claire after the stones

The walk back to the campsite was longer than it had been before. He felt heavier, as though he carried stones in his sporran and pockets. Was this grief? He’d experienced it some when his mother had died, also when he’d gotten word of his father’s death. But this was different. Stronger. More overwhelming. 

He had no appetite to eat anything, so he simply maintained the fire. What else could he do? He’d given his word that he’d stay near until nightfall. She should have gone through by now, but he had to be sure she was safe.

The flames curled lovingly around a twig until it twisted up and turned to ash. The shape of it, just before it had died, reminded him of her hair in the morning. It was normal to hear her swearing and cursing at it as she tried to tame it with pins and ribbons. He always liked that she didn’t wear the typical head coverings most marriet women did. She was wild and free.

Free.

The heartache latched onto that word and drove it through his chest.

Free.

He’d set her free, given her back to the man she loved. It didn’t matter that he loved her. She had another man waiting for her, worried over her. So he’d released her. It was the only thing he could do for the woman he loved.

Now that she was gone, he could stop being strong. Pure stubbornness had kept him from weeping at the stone circle. But he was alone now, alone with his thoughts and his horse.

Losing her hurt more than he’d expected. It was as if his tears couldn’t stop and his heart couldn’t beat it’s normal rhythm. God he wanted her back, wanted to get up and run back to the hell. Grab her by the shoulders and beg her to stay with him, beg her to put aside her vows to another man, beg her to be his. He was willing to do anything to keep her, but… He had no claim on her, no rights.

As the sun began to fade, he set the fire up to keep warm through the night. In the morning, he would need to make a choice and decide what to do. Perhaps he could go home, go to Lallybroch. He’d have explaining to do when he got there. And he’d have to deal with Jenny’s bastard. But that could wait for the morning. All he wanted right now was to sleep and dream of his wife.

He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried himself to sleep. The dreams weren’t happy ones, constantly chasing after Claire and losing her. It seemed he couldn’t stop weeping, even in his sleep.

A voice, as sharp as the dirk at his side, cut through the night air.

“On your feet, soldier.”

Claire?!

Gasping in the first full breath he’d taken since she left, he sat up.

Her smile restored him. His heart began beating again, fast and strong. Slowly, she knelt at his feet, a hand on his calf. She couldn’t really be here. She’d gone through the stone, he was sure of it. Maybe he was having visions. Or maybe he’d gone mad.

“Take me home to Lallybroch.”

Home. His home. Their home. Lallybroch. She wanted to be there. With him. In his time. This time. Now.

Sweet bleeding Jesus… She’d been given the choice between her own time and his. And she’d chosen him. He’d given her the choice so long denied her and she’d picked him.

Lifting himself onto his elbows, he stared at her in utter disbelief. How could she possibly want to stay here? It didn’t matter. For here she was, at his feet, asking to go with him to his home. His selfish prayer had been answered.

The tears on his cheeks were no longer tears of pain and grief and sorrow. They were of joy and delight and love restored. He tried to smile, a real smile, but it came out wrong. Claire’s face softened and she moved closer to him, reaching for him. God, to have her in his arms again, to feel her…

He kissed the lips he thought he’d never feel again and she kissed back. He wanted to taste every piece of her, to know every bit of her body again.

They didn’t need words. Words would only get in the way. She was back. She’d come back to him and she was his. Not Frank’s. HIS. No longer Claire Beauchamp.

Claire Fraser.

He must have her, must satisfy the mad lust that overwhelmed him. She felt it too, grappling with the flies on his breeks. Kissing her again, he moved from beneath her and crawled on top of her. He wouldn’t be gentle about it, not with how bad he needed her. 

Why must women wear so many damned layers! He pulled ruthlessly at her skirts until he felt the smooth, perfect skin of her thighs.

“Jamie,” she breathed, both hands on the back of his neck.

He dared not speak, for fear that this was a dream and speaking would scare her shade away.

Her mouth opened in a perfect ‘o’ when he finally made contact. Not moving, he stared down at her. She stared back, smiling softly up. A desperate urge to confess to her the real reason he’d wed her nearly overtook him. But he couldn’t. Not now. He would, in time, but not tonight.

Unable to wait any longer, he thrust roughly against her. She made a soft squeak, though not in protest. He wasn’t sure it would have mattered at that point. Riding her hard, he pulled at the belt around her waist and shoved the fabric of his kilt aside. Her lovely white breasts finally became accessible. His mouth latched onto one, nipping gently at the tip. The hand in his hair clawed his scalp. That only drove him faster. She made the loveliest sounds when he took her.

It was over too quickly, much too quickly. He wanted to have her again and again until neither of them could walk. Her eyes were closed in bliss and he pressed his mouth to hers again.

“Why?” he breathed, brushing hair from her face. “Why did ye no’ go back?”

Her eyes opened them, transparent as they ever had been. Bless her sweet glass face. Saying the words wasn’t necessary. He could see it in her eyes.

“I couldn’t leave you,” she answered softly. “I… I just couldn’t.”

“Ye may regret your choice, livin’ wi’ me.”

She giggled a little and combed her long, elegant fingers through his hair.

“I don’t think I will.”

“That’s good. I ken I’m no’ always the easiest man to live with.”

That made her snort. 

“Not always, no.”

Taking her mouth hostage again, he felt whole.

“Rest now, lass. We’ll be at Lallybroch soon.”

“You’ll actually take me to your home?”   
Picking up her right hand, he kissed her fingers and touched the ring he’d had made for her.

“Our home. We both have a part of the key, ye ken. I’ll be laird and you’ll be my lady. Lady Broch Tuarach.” 

Rolling onto her side, she tugged the plaid tighter around her shoulders. She was smiling.  
 “I like the way that sounds,” she muttered before she fell asleep.

“As do I, my Sassanach. As do I.”


End file.
